What's a good angsty young adult blog if the topic of depression isn't brought up? I'll tell you readers, it's not a very good one at all. Which is why I'm gunna put down this carton of Cherry Garcia, actually get out of my bed, and remove all the once happy pictures of my Ex with her eyes crossed out on my wall and write!
(FYI: I guess I get depressed like a girl in her 20's...?)
(Another FYI: I do not have an Ex so don't worry there's no weird death shrine to some innocent girl on my bedroom wall, just a poster of Bob Dylan. But that son of a bitch also broke my heart...)
My depression didn't fully kick in until recently and luckily it only lasted a short amount of time. But while it did last it really sucked. I wanted to do something with somebody but at the same time I didn't want to see any of my friends nor did I want to leave my house. I wanted to write stuff but couldn't manage to open my laptop to do anything other than watch binge watch True Detective (spoiler alert: Matty McConaughey's character stands up in the fifth episode!)
When I was getting out it was to go to work, which I was starting to become resentful and angry of in a very aggressive way. I had just been promoted to a new position, Restaurant Assistant (Thank you, thank you, hold your applause), and it was not as smooth a transition as I thought it would be, meaning it was a living nightmare. In three days I single handedly backed up the entire kitchen, failed to deliver full orders, and accidently made promises to customers I could not keep. Learning the hard way that when you tell someone their order of 13 burgers will be done in a mere fifteen minutes, they really do expect it in fifteen minutes. For a hot second I considered quitting my job stating it was too stressful and I had never asked to be promoted in the first place so why were the doing this to me. Outside of work things weren't getting much better. I tried going to a local bar to hangout with some friends but when I saw the huge line of people waiting to get in I angrily decided that the bar was "stupid" and called it a night. I wallowed home, tried my best to watch the latest episode of True Detective (spoiler alert: It was Harrelson's character who got up this time), and went to bed.
For a hot second I thought about maybe seeing a psychiatrist and by "thought" I mean thought about how I could not afford to see one. And by "psychiatrist" I meant a friend who would be willing to sit and listen to me bitch about my life for a solid 45 minutes. So that's what I did. I called up my best friend to hangout hoping to subtly work our conversation into the direction of my depression but before I could even ask her how her day was she told me, and it turns out it wasn't that good. She had woken up in a panic for absolutely no reason. She then proceeded to pace around her house and in between staring in the mirror compulsively picking her face and opening up her fridge 47 times she had come to the conclusion that she was hungry. When she decided to make herself a pizza she simultaneously decided to not make said pizza. But then she decided to make it again. Then not make it. Then pick her face. Finally, she made the executive decision to leave her house, as it was far too stressful for her after she realized her rent was due and that she "had not accomplished anything significant since college". So after one more face pick she managed to get herself in her car and drive to my place. And this was all before lunch time...
"I don't know what it is Cole. I guess I'm just freaking out. I have all this anxiety but I'm also kinda depressed..." She stated. I decided to keep my own depression under wraps for a bit longer figuring I didn't need to add to her level of anxiety. We settled on a place to eat (Portos for all you local North Hollywoodians) and told another mutual friend, who was also very hungry, to meet us there. After ordering some potatoes balls (the freakin' best things ever) we all sat down and quickly noticed our friend was not very talkative. Further questioning revealed that his graduation date from college was quickly approaching and he had no job opportunities lined up for him outside of school. His parents had also informed him that he was soon to be financially independent, something he was definitely not ready for nor was he expecting. His roommate of three years was moving in with his girlfriend and leaving him on his own. And to top it off the new apartment he seriously loved and was looking to move into had been snatched out from under him mere minutes after he left the open house.
"I'm sorry I'm being like this guys. honestly I've just been really depressed," He said to the very out of place smile on our faces. "We have too!" We reassured him, "SO DEPRESSED!" Turns out that what me and my friends were experience is that well known thing (rumor) in the male community when a group of girls who spend enough time together all get their period at the same time, only with like, ya know, depression. So we all talked about how shitty we'd been feeling and how surprised, and impressed, we were with each other's abilities to keep it so inconspicuous. Afterwards we ended up feeling a lot better about ourselves and life in general.
So the point of all this, because trust me I've been writing towards one, is that everyone gets depressed. Mainly because everyone's got their own shit to be depressed about. and that's totally okay. Don't be scared of it or immediately think you need help. I'm sure a lot of people are going to disagree with me but I think being depressed is a sign that you're, oh I dunno, alive. People feel things. Good things, bad things, sad things, and mad things. Let yourself live through them because the ways in which you handle all those feelings is how you learn about yourself. Like me for instance. I learned that nothing goes better with my depression than a hardboiled crime mini-series set in the deep south (spoiler alert: Everyone stands up in the season finale). I also learned to handle my depression better. Because convincing myself that I was going to get fired from my new job before I even walked through the door was definitely not a good way to counter my sour feelings about it. Neither was calling a perfectly respectable establishment "stupid" before I even had the chance to get inside. So be depressed. It's okay. But don't feed into it. It's easier said than done but trust me, the only feeling more extreme than depression is the feeling of knowing you took control of it and came out the other end a much happier person.
ALSO BE SURE TO WATCH SEASON 2 OF TRUE DETECTIVE STARTING SUMMER 2015!
